


Cherished

by Ralkana



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fanboy Phil Coulson, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:23:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One man's trash is the right fan's treasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherished

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer ~ Marvel's toys, not mine. I'm just playing.

 

Clint stared around Phil's spare bedroom in disbelief. Toys and books and comics and posters and... _things_ he couldn’t hope to identify -- all decorated in stars and stripes and red, white, and blue -- covered every surface, flat or otherwise.

"Jesus, Phil."

"I know, I know." Phil's voice was embarrassed as he ran his fingertips over a garishly striped box. "I need to organize it all. I've just been... busier than usual lately."

Clint -- the reason for the sudden drop-off in hobby-related activity -- smirked at his choice of words. Phil stared blandly back, his eyes dancing with humor.

There was a stack of matted, framed posters in what looked to him like perfect condition leaning against the wall, and Clint idly flipped through them. "Organize it? It's eating the room. You're gonna have to get a storage unit soon, or a bigger apartment. Maybe a hou -- "

He trailed off, staring at the little quarter-sheet poster stuck in the middle of the pile. He carefully picked it up to study it more closely. The frame was simple, the matting pristine, which only served to contrast the condition of the poster itself.

It was yellowed and tattered, the edges frayed, one corner missing -- ripped carelessly away -- and it was falling apart along the creases where it had clearly been folded into quarters for some time. The remaining corners had rusty staple holes, and there was an unidentifiable dark stain along the bottom left edge.

The cocky seventeen-year-old in washed-out purple spangles stood astride a horse that had once appeared brilliantly white, his bow drawn, the jut of his chin defiant. Fading letters proclaimed him to be THE AMAZING HAWKEYE!!! 

It was worthless trash, and yet here it was, protected and cherished, just like the rest.

Strong arms slid around his waist, pulling him close to Phil's warm, solid chest.

"I found it completely by accident," Phil said in his ear, resting his chin on Clint's shoulder as he stared at the framed poster. "Just stumbled across it one day."

Clint tore his gaze away from the unexpected reminder of his past, taking in Phil's profile. His smile was fond, the corner of his eye crinkling in the way only Clint ever saw, and Clint closed his eyes.

The stupid kid on that poster would have given _anything_ to have someone look at him like that, like he was prized. Like he was loved.

"How long have you had it?" he asked, his voice a little rough. He cleared his throat and opened his eyes to glance back at Phil, who huffed out a tiny laugh. His cheeks were pink.

"Years," he admitted. "Five, maybe. I didn't hang it up because -- "

"It looks like crap?"

Phil's fingers dug sharply into his side, and he jumped.

"That is _not_ why," Phil said mildly. "I just... I didn't feel I had the right. Bringing it home with me was a no-brainer, but once I got it here and had it framed, it felt..."

"Did you feel like a creeper, sir? A creepy stalker? A creepy stalker with a creepy crush?" Clint laughed and dodged away as Phil's fingers dug at him again. They could joke about it now, because no matter how long it had taken them, no matter how ridiculous they had been with the mutual pining that lasted for _years_ , they were here now. Together.

He gently rested the stack of posters back against the wall, and Phil pulled the tattered little poster out of his hand and set it at the front of the pile, his thumb running gently along the top of the frame.

"I'm glad," Clint blurted out, and when Phil glanced at him, eyebrow raised, he shrugged, stomping down the need to wrap his arms around himself defensively. "That it... still exists. That it found a home. With you."

Phil's eyes went soft, their silvery depths full of warmth and tenderness Clint still wasn't used to, didn't know if he ever would be.

"Me too," he murmured, fingers stroking through Clint's hair and down his cheek to cup his jaw and reel him in for a kiss. "Me too."

**END**


End file.
